


Lesson Learned

by mechanicalanakal (orphan_account)



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Manipulation, Mutilation, Restraints, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 12:38:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/mechanicalanakal
Summary: It's not that Hewlett wanted to see Simcoe on a nearly daily basis. He only meant to visit to Setauket's church, nothing more, nothing less. He never expected to be followed. Nor did he expect to be restrained, kept there against his will, forced to not only harm himself, but withstand the near constant abuse from the Captain. Yet, there he was.





	Lesson Learned

Hewlett thought he had learned long ago to stop resisting Simcoe’s wishes. A once proud, strong-willed man had broken into a shell of his former self. Major Hewlett stared down tiredly at the weapon in his hand -  _ the very thing he’d brought to protect himself with _ \- and though he’d been asked to do similar in the past, he was utterly shocked by what he was commanded to do. Despite the numerous wounds that covered his being, he couldn’t help but be shocked. His hands shook as his thoughts swirled, terror and regret encompassing him. He could already tell what was to come, but didn’t want to face it. But this came with a price, knowing very well that the other didn’t take kindly to disobedience.

Behind the panicked Major stood his captor, Captain Simcoe, holding him closer than he probably should’ve been. The Major’s bare back was flush against Simcoe’s chest. The Captain held the other’s left wrist in place, his grip gentle, but threatening. The other hand held his hip, rubbing small circles into the area with his thumb - and Hewlett was disgusted by himself, the way he found comfort in the touch. Simcoe had given him what he thought was a simple instruction:

‘ _ Hurt yourself. _ ’

So, when the shorter man began to shiver, panic under his hold - sounding as though he were on the brink of tears for the umpteenth time - Simcoe was more than a little confused. Surely, drawing one’s own blood shouldn’t be that much of an issue. Well, not for the Major, anyway - considering how long they had been doing this now - how long had it been then,  _ weeks? _ He couldn’t be bothered to remember. No matter his subtle persistence, gentle pleas, poor Hewlett wouldn’t budge. All he would do is silently beg, his words almost unintelligible as he sobbed. When the Major continued to resist, the Captain knew what must be done.

He took the knife from the Major’s already loose grip, pressing his face into his neck. Simcoe sighed softly into the warm flesh. In front of him, Hewlett was trying to calm himself down. All that could be heard was his sniffling, soft whines. His lips were parted and his shaken breath was audible.

“I’m s-sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Of course, no good would’ve come of it. Hewlett wasn’t an idiot - he knew his apologies were falling on deaf ears, but surely, he was supposed to say  _ something, _ wasn’t he? The only form of response he received was the warmth on his neck, gentle kisses being left on the sensitive skin. He shivered, whether out of fear or otherwise, he couldn’t tell. But as Simcoe’s grip on his wrist faltered, wrapping around his torso instead, he found himself steadily calming down. Tear-streaked, breath hitching.

* * *

Whatever hope he had left had vanished entirely then. Hewlett sat restrained in a chair, hands tied around the back of it; his legs were tied apart to the chair’s. While he wanted -  _ and tried _ \- to put up more of a fight, to try and escape these ropes, he knew that further resistance would only serve to tire him out. That, and he would run the risk of frustrating Simcoe further, and that was something he simply couldn’t do. As the realization that he may possibly never escape washed over him, a feeling of hopelessness became prominent in his thoughts. Certainly he had already considered it, but the thought that he would never be free of the Captain - be free of the blade’s icy touch - had became his primary focus. He had barely calmed down from before, his head was down in shame with quiet sobs escaping his throat once again. He could only imagine how pathetic he looked. The only reason Hewlett picked his head up was because Simcoe requested his attention, though he was greatly hesitant. Tears still clearly streamed down his cheeks as he gazed up. As his eyes met the Captain’s he could see a faint smile disappear from his lips.

“I didn’t want to do this.” Simcoe’s usual aloof, light tone had already become grating and Hewlett couldn’t help but wonder how he could be so seemingly uncaring in such a stress-inducing situation. He would  _ never  _ understand how a person could do this to another. But then again, he had to remember, he was dealing with John Graves Simcoe - the man wasn’t exactly known for being ‘merciful’.

“But as you seem unable to follow simple instructions, I thought perhaps you could benefit from a demonstration.”

The Captain stood a few feet away, leaning against the side of the Major’s old desk. In his hand, he held the knife, inspecting it. Its blade was sharp, serrated. To Hewlett, the man looked almost as though he were lost in thought. The taller man put the knife behind him on the desk with a soft thud, proceeding to roll up his sleeve, the faint smile from before returning to his face as he revealed the skin. Hewlett wanted to question, but knew he lacked the confidence to. He sat there quietly, making an effort to avert his eyes. Simcoe picked the knife up again, scraping the blade against its surface as he did, and turned his gaze back to the pitiful sight before him.

“Wouldn’t you agree?”

Of course, the Captain only spoke again to try and get a reaction out of him - he required the attention, the validation of Hewlett’s fear. He knew fully well that this man could snap at any possible moment, but as he stole occasional glances up at the other, he knew that there would be no other way out of this. He gulped before fully facing him again.

“Wh-” Hewlett cursed himself for stuttering, for letting himself become so weak. “What do you mean?”

He caught a glimpse of a smirk from the Captain.

“ _ Watch and learn. _ ”

He brought the blade to his arm, steadily dragging it against his unscarred flesh, creating a long, shallow cut. All the while, Simcoe’s expression remained neutral, to Hewlett, he almost looked serene as the knife coursed through his skin. Hewlett stifled a sharp inhale at the sight. He was hit with a multitude of conflicting emotions, but most of all, he felt absolute terror course through his system. Somehow he could almost feel the pain, watching blood fill the cut, beginning to escape. It was one thing to have the courage to wield a knife and hurt oneself with it - it was an entirely different thing to barely have a reaction. In fact, the Major was certain he had a stronger reaction than the man who now had a bright red gradually streaming down his arm.

Along with his horror, though, came the unexpected sensation of concern. He found himself unexpectedly worried for the Captain’s safety and he couldn’t understand how -  _ why _ . If he could find his voice, he would’ve pleaded for him to stop, despite every previous attempt failing to have any effect. The Captain only stood there, watching in suppressed delight at the Major’s expression. With a small, satisfied sigh, Simcoe brought the blade back to his arm, a little below the first, hovering it just above his skin. He was smiling now and his breath wavered. Simcoe turned his gaze to his wound. He brought the knife down again, a small, almost inaudible noise escaping his throat. The Captain was in pain, that was certain to Hewlett, but it didn’t seem to have a negative effect on him. He knew this man wasn’t all too well in the head, but to apparently take pleasure in committing such an act not only to himself, but to another person was - Hewlett didn’t know what to make of it. He could hear the man’s breath deepen. As he withdrew the knife again, another stream of blood began to pour. The Major felt his stomach turn.

In his sick, twisted mind, this somehow served as a punishment. Though, given the reaction it received, Simcoe’s methods worked quite well. The moment silence was broken as Hewlett let out a sob. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. His head was downcast now, a feeble attempt to mask his tears. He knew it was no use, but he couldn’t help but try to tug at his restraints again, only resulting in them tightening ever so slightly more. The Captain’s gaze drifted away from his arm to the pathetic, panicked man that sat before him. He stifled a chuckle, sighing, before he strode over.

A hand gently running its fingers through his hair caught Hewlett’s attention.

“Major,” his tone was almost as soothing as his initial touch.

That was, of course, before Simcoe yanked his head back. The chair wobbled, but the Captain set a hand on the man’s leg, keeping him grounded, the knife’s handle trapped between his hand and Hewlett’s thigh. A stern yet indifferent expression was plastered across his face. Hewlett, on the other hand, was still attempting to recover, new tears beginning to form. Much to his dismay, blood dripped onto his face.

“I want you to watch,” the soft tone remained, but not it only served to worsen the Major’s fear. Somehow, he sounded desperate for the other’s attention. He could make out a faint smile threatening to tug at his lips. Hewlett squirmed under his grasp and a whimper escaped his throat in the process.

“Could you do that for me?”

Despite his true feelings, he gave off a quiet “yes.” With that confirmation, Simcoe smiled down at him. He let his hair go, but before he pulled away entirely, he forked his fingers through a few more times, fixing the mess he made. The Major made an effort to calm down, to watch the Captain’s demonstration. Surely, he thought, this couldn’t go on for much longer. All he could do at this point was hope.

Simcoe stepped back, but he remained close. The last cut was over with quicker than the first two, fortunately - or unfortunately, depending on whose point of view was in question. Just as before, the Captain barely reacted, but as he was much closer than before, Hewlett got a better look at his actions. Hewlett watched as blood trailed down Simcoe’s arm with a worried expression - though, why he cared for this man would forever be a mystery to him. He watched as the knife was placed - rather, tossed - back onto the desk with a clang. No matter how much he wanted to avoid it, he couldn’t help but stare at the new wound.

The Major was unsettled as the Captain turned back to him with a crooked smile on his face. He didn’t know what was to come, but he was certain it couldn’t be good. The taller man now stood in front of him, crouched for his captive’s ease, far too close for comfort, as usual. A strong hand rested on the Major’s leg, but he had trouble telling if it was for support, or something more.

“See? It’s simple,” he said, an air of satisfaction to his tone. Simcoe brought a supposedly soothing hand to the Major’s face, a thumb rubbing circles into his cheek. The other jumped but didn’t resist. “Now… would you prefer if I continued, or would you like to give it a try?”

He brushed a hair behind the Major’s ear. It took him a moment to respond, trying to consider his options rather than blurting out an answer. On one hand, he couldn’t take watching Simcoe hurt himself anymore. Despite how much he seemed to enjoy it, to watch a man hurt himself was absolutely heartbreaking and terrifying. On the other, Hewlett knew he couldn’t do such a thing to himself again. Even then, it wasn't as though he truly had any choice over the matter. Either way, he was going to suffer.

“I’ll… try, sir.”

Simcoe couldn’t help but smile, almost chuckling at the thought.  _ ‘Sir’. _ With a satisfied sigh, he got on his knees. It took another couple minutes for the Captain to untie the ropes, finally freeing the other. After having been stuck in such an uncomfortable position for so long, Hewlett was glad to finally be free of his bonds. He brought his arms close, hugging himself for a moment, and he nearly found himself curling up in his seat. The Captain was patient, allowing the other a few moments to collect himself. He placed a comforting hand on his back, and surprisingly enough, Hewlett found it as such, smiling softly at the touch. In the back of his mind, though, he knew it was the very arm that had just been cut.

Soon, the way Simcoe towered over him like a threatening storm became a clear sign of impatience. He wanted the Major to make a move, to go for the knife. Knowing that hesitating further wouldn’t be in his best interest, he took in shaky breath and attempted to get up. He was surprised as Simcoe helped him to his feet. Judging by the other pair of footsteps, the other man had followed close behind as he made his way to the desk. Hewlett urged himself to calm down. In a shaky hand, he held the knife and tried in vain to get the image of blood running down the other’s arm out of his head.

After a moment of thought, Hewlett decided that it would be better to cut his right arm, considering his left was decorated with numerous wounds - ones that still stung. While his right only had a few - three, maybe four. He turned his back to the desk, but as he did, Simcoe heaved him up onto the surface, forcing a fearful whine from the poor Major.

“Forgive me,” Simcoe smiled up at the other.

The Captain’s hands rested on Hewlett’s hips for a moment and the former could feel the latter shaking under his touch. For a moment, he almost felt bad for scaring him, but that guilt quickly faded. A smile found its way to Simcoe’s lips as he looked up at the other, his hands traveling up his torso slightly, finding satisfaction in the softness of his skin. It was unharmed - for now, of course. He let his mind wander, fantasizing. He couldn’t help but admire his expression. He looked anxious, quite upset. Despite the situation he was in, the Major couldn’t help but smile back, even if it was because of his nervousness, perhaps even an eagerness to please the other man.

Though he was quiet for a moment, stuck in silent admiration, Simcoe eventually spoke again as his eyes once again met the Major’s.

“Please, continue.”

At first, he was met with the familiar sting. The amount of times this blade has gone across his person, Hewlett could hardly count. For some reason though, he could barely manage through the first of what he knew were many. Even though he repeatedly told himself not to cry, he felt tears once again welling in his eyes. He was overwhelmed, if anything, and he couldn’t find the drive to continue. Of course, he knew he  _ needed _ to carry on, he was unable to do much more than hesitate. The first cut was small and shallow - far from what the Captain expected of him. Still, he was encouraged to continue.

So, he did. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and took a deep breath. With newfound motivation, he set the knife back to himself. It was another few moments, another few cuts, before he found himself weak again. He cursed himself for letting himself fall apart. Simcoe, though, did nothing but watch the Major with intent, admiring every little noise that escaped him.

“I know it hurts, but…” the Captain’s whisper paused and he subtly adjusting the grip on Hewlett’s arm, loosening ever so slightly. Somehow, his voice was sweet, unmistakably kind. Tone gentle, words calm.  _ It was absolutely surreal. _ He was entirely cut off guard by Simcoe’s lips meeting his own, but it wasn’t like he had time to react. Truthfully, he didn’t want to complain either.

“You’re doing wonderfully.”

After that, Hewlett was at a loss for words and couldn’t think straight. A faint red had spread across his cheeks and his gaze remained on the man before him. Simcoe only took hold of his other hand, guiding it and the Major’s eyes back to his wounded arm. By now, he knew it would be best to simply let the Captain work. Hewlett’s hand shook and he couldn’t keep his hold steady. He let his eyes close for a moment, allowing the other man to do whatever he wished. He felt the blade enter his arm, but he didn’t feel its exit. All he felt was an overwhelming burning. Instinctively, Hewlett squirmed under his hold, wanting only to escape. Much to his dismay, though, Simcoe’s hold remained tight and the blade only dug deeper. He was certain that they’d gone too far this time. Sure, he’d survived multiple smaller cuts, but this - he whimpered - this was too deep, he was sure of it.

“John,  _ please. _ ” Hewlett whined. “I-I’m scared.”

To admit such a thing to Simcoe, he knew it was a mistake. The man  _ thrived _ on his fear. But the Major was trapped, helpless, and didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t just sit there and let this man carve yet another wound into his flesh. Though he had been doing just the same, Hewlett knew he couldn’t - rather, wouldn’t, stand this for much longer. Even so, it wasn’t as though his plea made much of a difference. Simcoe barely reacted to it and he kept his grip firm, the knife remained in his arm. It was stationary, fortunately not going any deeper, but the pain he felt was immense and he couldn’t keep himself still. Tears still streamed down his cheeks and panicked noises still escaped his throat, but of course, the Captain didn’t care. He stood close, watching the knife with a small smile on his face.

This was satisfying. To have revenge on someone who repeatedly wronged you was naturally going to feel good. Sure, Simcoe may have gone a little overboard, basically  _ kidnapping _ the Major, but… this was to be expected, wasn’t it? The Captain wasn’t exactly known for being the most stable individual, they both knew this, so something like this must’ve been bound to happen. That was, at least, how he told himself to justify his actions. He couldn’t explain the brief moments of affection he offered though, and certainly  _ that _ was not apart of this revenge. Still, he felt a pang of guilt.

Furthering this man’s suffering was completely pointless. He was already broken, covered in numerous wounds he was certain would scar, and to say the least, Hewlett was terrified. The Captain’s smile had long since faded. He realized that now he would have to do something about this, but truth be told, he hadn’t actually planned this far ahead.

Hewlett kept his head down and his quiet sobs to a minimal. When Simcoe once again requested his attention, he realized just then how lightheaded he had become. Soft lips met him soon after, and somehow he found comfort in them, and he relaxed under Simcoe’s hold. The kiss was short but sweet, and fortunately provided a good enough distraction from the agony that was the knife being pulled away. Hewlett sobbed, turning his head and breaking the kiss. Blood quickly filled the area and Simcoe had to act swiftly in order to fix it. The Captain pulled away too, quickly retrieving a stray cloth from the desk and holding it to the new wound. As the two men caught their breath, slowly but surely calming down, Simcoe eventually allowed Hewlett to hold it there himself.

He took a step back, observing the Major’s movements. He was shaking with gaze fixated on the cloth, but other than that he seemed to be alright. Simcoe could’ve sworn he heard Hewlett say something, but he had already turned around and was about to retrieve his coat. It had been discarded across a nearby pew some time ago.

The Major shifted uncomfortably on the desk. His arm had far from stopped hurting, but luckily for him, it didn’t hurt as badly now. He eyed the other suspiciously as he walked back coat in hand. He almost found himself cowering away from Simcoe as his usual red coat was draped around his shoulders. He was shocked upon feeling the familiar sensation of the fabric, but Hewlett soon found himself smiling, if only a little.

“There,” said the Captain, a satisfied look on his face.

He cleared his throat and Simcoe finally heard what Hewlett had meant to say. His voice was a little hoarse and he sounded tired, but after what he went through, that was to be expected.

“Thank you.”

“Now then,” he began again with a nod. “I… will need to step out for a little while. I only hope I can trust you to remain here while I am gone.”

“Of course, I cannot stop you if you do leave, but I’ll be coming back with something I believe you’ll enjoy.” He paused and let out a short laugh.  “Then again, my dear,” the same hand ran its fingers through the Major’s hair. “You’re hardly in any condition to flee.”

Hewlett barely listened as Simcoe continued to ramble. Just as he said he would, the Captain left him as he was: sitting on the desk, unbound. The thought still confused him, certainly, but by now he didn’t trust himself enough to ask. One thing the other was insistent about, though, was not that he stayed, rather that he checked on his wounds every so often. Of course, he was frustrated by this notion. It would’ve been rather nice if Simcoe were this concerned about him  _ before _ he decided to leave nothing unscarred.

But now as the Captain walked out those church doors, he was alone and had nothing else to do but sit and wait. Certainly, he could’ve tried to take a nap, but sleep was hard enough to come by during the night, and he was definitely not looking forward to laying on the cold, hard floor. His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pain in his arm and Hewlett barely stifled a whimper. An overwhelming frustration washed over him then. 

_ This was ridiculous. _

He scooted back and crossed his legs. This wasn’t vastly more comfortable, but it was better than nothing. He let his wounded arm relax in his lap, the other following suit. His head drooped. He told himself that he would only rest his eyes for a moment, but that moment soon became minutes, those minutes to what felt like an hour.

* * *

“Major?”

Hewlett jumped back into the waking world as a hand was placed on his back. It wasn’t like the Captain was trying to scare him, but it definitely turned out that way. The light in the church had grown dimmer than it was previously, and Hewlett could only imagine how long he was asleep for. Or for that matter, how long the Captain was out. He took his hand away and as Hewlett’s eyes adjusted, he noticed the bundle of blankets in his arms. Along with that, a canteen.

“Have you been checking your arm?” Asked the Captain, a small smile on his face.

The Major nodded, saying that it had stopped bleeding sometime ago. With that, the other was pleased. He was handed the flask, but he couldn’t help but eye it and the man before him with suspicion. How Simcoe expected Hewlett to trust him after everything he had put him through, he would never understand. Still, the Captain assured him it was safe to drink, it wasn’t poisonous or anything. Naturally, he was still hesitant, but he took a sip. The Major watched on as the other began to lay the blankets out on the floor against the wall. He laid one down, fixing it into a makeshift bed. The other sheet, though, seemed like it was going to serve its original purpose.

He didn’t bother to ask what he was doing,  _ why _ he was doing, or anything of the sort. He knew he wouldn’t get a straight answer. As he was finishing up, Hewlett took another sip from the flask, slipped off the desk, and walked over.

“I’ve decided that since you’re likely going to be staying here for a while,” the Captain’s voice was light, “it would be best to try and make you more comfortable.”

“You… can’t be serious.”

Simcoe didn’t respond initially, instead focusing his attention on folding the second blanket and placing it down.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Though what he really wanted to say was far less polite, Hewlett decided to keep his mouth shut, hoping that it would lead to no further punishment. He walked a little further and sat down on the sheets. Certainly it wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but perhaps if he had the time, he would fix it up a bit - was he  _ really _ trying to think of ways to improve his stay here? - Still, he knew that he should be grateful. Such kindness from the Captain was uncommon.

Without warning, the Captain sat behind him. Simcoe scooted himself against the wall comfortably, a hand beckoning the Major to lean back. As he did so, Hewlett found himself relaxed under his touch. His back was pressed nicely against his chest, his head laid on his shoulder. A gentle kiss was placed against his cheek and Hewlett couldn’t help but smile. To think that he could get such peace from a man who hurt him so many times was still confusing, but oftentimes, it felt best to not think on it.

**Author's Note:**

> i didn't exactly Wanna reupload this, but ya know how it goes :'/


End file.
